Page 172 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

She would give them her anger.

Catherine spit at the man when he stared her in the face. He didn’t even blink at her spittle landing on his nose, not even an ounce of rage of disgust. He simply kept looking at her.

What the fuck were these people?

Machines?

“You listen, no hurt. You hurt boss man, you hurt. Understand?”

“Get a fucking English lesson,” Catherine snapped at him.

“Get manners.” The man’s lips flattened into a thin line. “Spoiled girl.”

“The girl has a name—Catherine.”

“Don’t care,” he muttered, and then dragged her the rest of the way to the stairs leading up to the plane. “Name is little important.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shut now.”

“What?”

At the top of the stairs, standing in front of the plane’s open door, he turned and stared hard at her. His fingers came up and pinched her lips together. “Shut now, girl.”

Rage spilled through Catherine’s veins. The very second he released her lips from his fingers she jerked forward, intent on driving her tied hands into his face. If nothing else, at least she could say she did that.

Catherine didn’t even get her bound fists higher than her breastbone. The guy caught her hands, twisted them painfully, and put her to her knees without as much as a blink. She let out a cry, despite how hard she tried to hold it in, as her wrists cracked from how far he had twisted them sideways.

“Girl, I am angry, now. You stop.”

He didn’t bother to give her the chance to respond. Catherine was dragged inside the plane, past a watching pilot and flight attendant, and further into the private jet. It all happened so fast that all she could take in was the white leather of seats and port-style windows before she was tossed like a useless ragdoll to the floor in front of her captor.

Catherine blinked rapidly, trying to gain some bearings.

A low chuckle above her made her look up. Cold blue eyes stared back at her. The man was tall—well over six and a half feet. His chest was as wide as a fucking barrel, and his arms bulged against the tight fit of his Armani suit. A diamond encrusted, gold watch caught the overhead cabin light, and gleamed brightly.

The toe of his shined black shoe came forward, and ticked Catherine under her chin to force her head even higher. “My, you are a pretty thing, aren’t you? Pretty ass, pretty mouth, and pretty fucked, at the moment.”

Catherine let out a shaky breath, and managed to hide the disgusted shiver that crawled through her body. She did not like the way this man looked at her, never mind how he spoke about her.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

“Where are you taking me?”

“That’s your question?”

Catherine nodded.

“Out of everything you could possibly ask,” he murmured, “that is your question?”

“Why not?”

“I would think asking me who I am might be a good start.”

“That’s a bit vain of you to think I care who you are, isn’t it?”

His eyes narrowed. “I am an important piece to the puzzle, Catherine.”